


Trust Isn't An Emotion, Numbnuts

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, Hunger Games (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Homestuck Shipping Olympics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Karkat is The Troll on Fire, and he got saddled with the worst human: the baker boy with the strange kindness in his manner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Isn't An Emotion, Numbnuts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HSO 2012 Bonus Round 5: Roadtrips. Written on a whim, so apologies if this isn't up to par.   
> Prompt:  
> John/Karkat  
> Panem's Capitol

The first glimpse they get of the Capitol is through the glass window of their train. 

The first thoughts you have is that it is bursting full of colour. There are a million different fuckwads decked in red, orange, green, purple with insane hairstyles and unbelievable clothes everywhere. The streets glisten and the architecture is higher, fancier than anything you've seen of any district even in prosperous times. 

A gasp escapes Egbert's mouth. His nose is pressed up to the glass, steaming up the panels. You can't blame the kid. Comparing this to the sullen desolate waste of District Three is like trying to compare a split atom to the ocean. 

You slowly approach the glass. The buildings look like gold and silver. The people look impossible-women walk around with delicate wiring and feathers in their hair, reminding you of peacocks. The men are as illuminated-the coats are made out of fine silk and their complexions perfect cream or ivory. Some of them have even the weirdest, unnatural orange shade. It's a parade of decadence and holy fuck, you're in the eye of the vanity storm. You try to keep your composure, unlike Mr. Gaping Nubteeth over there. You aren't here to be treated like some fucker's doll only to be slaughtered in the arena. You withdraw quickly, back into the shadows. 

Soon enough you reach the station and it's a wild mess of flesh and coloured silks and lace as they try to snap your face and touch you through the windows. You sulk at the back while John arcs joy and innocent glee at them like the naive fool he is. 

"Tell me, Vantas. What do you understand about the Games again?"

You glare at his Royal Blonde Shitlicker with Pointy Sunglasses again. His hair sticks up to the ceiling with impudence and you don't break eye contact as you say, "A show put on for all to see." the phrase has become routine now, and you bite back the swear words on your tongue. Dirk is the most overbearing, irritating fuckwad of a human you would scrape off the back of your shoe on the ground, but he's smart, fast and dangerous. And he can help you. 

"Correct. And what helps you in the game?"

"Supplies."

"Sponsors, my nub-horned friend. People who like you. And by my count, you're trailing a bit behind John at this point." he quirks a finger toward the four-eyed dumbass and your eyes widen slightly. 

They love him. They're cooing over him behind the doors like birds in heat and you stifle the deep primal urge to kick him in the rear. 

\--

The first time you meet Feferi, Eridan and Kanaya, you're immediately fussed over like a baby chick. Their eyes are wide over you, gleaming like a predator's next as they plan to rip off your skin and put in a new one. Well, that's what you think, anyway. Stylists and their fucking mania over every goddamn detail. 

"Pluck his eyebrows-"

"Oh my god, what is with his pants. They are as long as-"

"What's a good colour for him-"

"Red, definitely-"

"The poor dear has never even had a facial, President Scratch forbid-"

By the time they're done with you, you've been exfoliated, plucked and cleansed within an inch of your life. They've had to muzzle you to mute the shrieking and you're close to pricking Feferi in the eye(who even wears diamond-encrusted goggles, fuck!). 

Feferi, Eridan and Kanaya step back to look at their handiwork. Eridan looks at you coyly and Feferi claps her hands in joy. Disgruntled, you look in the mirror and hold back a breath. 

Your hair doesn't hang around in your face anymore. Your eyebrows have been plucked. The scruffiness has been scrubbed away from you until you look clean. 

"Maybe we should have gone for the whisker inplantations," Eridan whispers in a joking tone to Feferi. 

You turn around. 

"What."

"Eridan, I seem to recall warning you to be gentler with Karkat," Kanaya warns. You take a closer look at her. She exudes serenity and peace in a green dress, not overdone like the rest of these capitol peacocks. She glows. There's a bat brooch on her lapel, an emerald glinting in its center. 

"Welcome to the Capitol, Mr. Vantas. I apologize for the behaviour of my assistants. They're simply very excited to meet someone outside the Capitol. We'll be your stylist team for the Parade."

You've barely had time to say a word before she whisks you into clothes. She mutters to herself, "No-no, no definitely not-maybe a brighter shade-"

"Tell me, what is your district best known for?"

You say, "Mining."

She narrows her eyes and seems to come up with an idea. 

\--

Dinner is a series of awkward silence and scraping forks and spoons. Mostly, you're just trying to enjoy all the luxury you can. The creaminess of pastries and the succulent meats do not lose their luster even after a third helping. You couldn't remember the last time you've felt full in your life and John seems to be doing much the same. Roxy is staring at you both with a plain disgust at your table manners, or perhaps trying to discern whether you'll plunge a knife into the table again. 

You pick up a particularly sharp knife and feign stabbing the wood. Roxy opens her mouth in an almost-shriek and you smirk. 

"That was mahogany!" John stage-whispers across the table and even Dirk's chuckling slightly as you both burst down into uncontrollable laughter. Roxy sulks. 

Okay, maybe he's not a complete fucking idiot. 

After dinner, he comes up to you with an eager puppy face. 

"Hey, Karkat, come with me, I want to show you something!"

"Egbert, as much as I would like to deign to give a rat's ass about-"

"Bluh Bluh Bluh, trust me, this is so cool, just shut up and come with me."

You swear down the entire stretch of hall as he pulls you to his room by your wrist, but you don't struggle.

He instructs you to stand in front of his window. 

"Yes, Egbert, the view is breath-taking, my brain is swooping up and down in epileptic circles like I just ate a whole fucking can of-"

Then it shifts. 

It changes to a wood. The trees are clustered together and the sky above it is a miserable grey you know so well. The forest is a palette in dark green and the spaces-you can almost hear Sollux in them. You can almost see his stupid goggles and bifurcated horns as he evades one of your traps and helps you catch a deer. 

Then the screen changes to a meadow full of sunflowers and reality hits you like a bucket in the face. 

"This place is so amazing," he says breathlessly. You have to agree. You feel like if you opened the window, you'd be there. It'd be so simple to escape. But after a few more landscapes with the swish of his finger on his table pad, you look out to the lights of the utopia and find that you're still here. Still competing in the Games. Against him. 

You push past him back to your room and try hard not to think about anything, not Sollux or Gamzee waiting back home, and certainly not the tingle of John's fingers, until you fall asleep. 

\--

There's flames coming out of your gloves. 

This was Kanaya's idea. The boy on fire-and John's in a whole separate get-up. The trolls and humans in your district do different things. They generate power by windmill, and he's all in blue. His gloves burst out wind and his suit is the colour of water in the shade. 

The roar of the crowd hits you like high tide. They're screaming and clapping for you and Dirk's voice is in your ear is whispering smilesmilesmile-

You catch yourself on the huge screen. You're grinning as if nothing could stop you. John's smiling that huge smile of his and he leans over, switches off both your glove mechanisms and holds your hand up high like you're already champions. 

The interviews are fairly predictable. They ask you both about your love lives and you deflect easily. John even winks at the camera. Son of a bitch is a natural flirt, who knew?

Then there's the inevitable question about Gamzee. Your brother. 

You don't tear up. You keep your voice steady. You live through it. 

Then they collect you for the dance and buffet in the grand Capitol Hall. It's more show fodder-they want star-crossed lovers or scandalous indiscretions and you don't fool yourself thinking that maybe you'll find a matesprit here. You're already checking out the physique of the competition-the sweaty, bulky troll, the girl who can't stop staring at you and looks very feline, the troll with the large horns, the blind troll who you feel sorry for-there's so many of them. You catch some names in the interviews. Rose, Vriska, Aradia, Dave. The list goes on. 

You stuff yourself and watch all of them dance beautifully across the floor, never missing a beat. Dirk is behind you and says, "Good show, Vantas. I might make you a winner yet."

"I wouldn't count my fucking cluckbeasts," you sneer. You cock your head towards John. He's already charmed and asked the two District Six girls to dance. The media is having the ball of their lives with it. 

"Remember, the Games is not just about publicity, but skill. You have talent with that sickle. Don't eat too much. Training begins tomorrow-and they'll be watching." he whispers and points to the Careers. The muscle horse is amongst them. Of course. 

"Got it, teach," you reply. You eat lightly and slink into dark corners watching John dance his way across the female population, growing moodier and moodier. Okay. Fine. You don't need him. You were going to kill him anyway. You have to win. For Gamzee. 

Which is why you nearly jump out of your horns when he finds you and asks you to dance. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" 

"C'mon Karkat! I've got a fever and only you can cure me," he laughs. 

You are going to kill him so furiously and viciously that it will be recorded in reverence by serial killers for the rest of eternity. 

"I'd rather chew off my own leg and jam it down my oracular gaps. I'd rather pull apart every atom of my gallsphincter and crucify my liver until my arteries-" you're readying yourself for a full jaunt down monologue road until-

"Whoop, too late." he's pulled you to your feet and dragged you to the middle of the dance floor. Everybody's staring at this point and you look like a clueless numbfuck. 

"I will hunt down everybody you love," you whisper in his ear as you pretend to smile sweetly for the cameras. 

"Aw, Karkat, I didn't know you were competing for the wet blanket Olympics," he replies in a saccharine sweet voice as a slow song starts and you're both swaying on the floor. 

Your hands on his waist and his hands on yours make you feel enormous amounts of uncomfortable, but backing out now would be suicide. You clamp your mouth next to his ear and starts abusing the art of dancing and he stifles his laughter over the rustling of gowns. 

You will never comprehend the brain of this moron. 

You finally lift your head from his shoulders and you're both caught in a moment of eye contact. His eyes are the blue of the ocean and you're lost, suddenly confused as to where you are and who you are and why you came. He's beautiful, stupidly beautiful and he opens his mouth to say something, looking like he got brained by a hammer. 

But the second's gone. Sollux and Gamzee are hardening in your hands like rocks and you pull away. You stomp off, leaving John looking dazed and sad in the Hall, fighting the cold on your cheek where it was resting on his shoulder. 


End file.
